A handful of historical authors brave the wilds of unusual settings, times, and characters to create distinctive, exciting novels just outside of the mainstream. Join us as we chronicle the trials and rewards of our quest - from research and writing to publication and establishing lasting careers.

08 December 2011

Excerpt Thursday: Pagan's Prize by Miriam Minger

This week on Excerpt Thursday, we're welcoming historical romance author Miriam Minger, whose medieval novel, PAGAN'S PRIZE, is now available in digital format at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. This exciting novel is set in tenth century Russia. Join us Sunday, when Miriam will be here to talk about the book and give away a digital copy. Here's the blurb:

The bold Viking warrior Rurik traveled alone on a mission
of conquest. But along the way a golden-haired captive inflamed him with
longing. He took up his sword to defend her…then swore to claim her for his
own.

A beautiful Russian princess betrayed by treachery, Zora
spurned the powerful man who held her prisoner—and vowed never to yield. He had
been sent as a spy to pave the way for her people’s surrender. But his furious
hunger for her heated touch—and her aching need for his burning caress—led to a
fiery passion that was a greater prize than any kingdom.

He did not
answer, but she knew from the way he clenched his jaw that she had guessed the
truth.

“And I?” she
demanded. “What have I become, Lord Rurik?”

“A pawn.”

His blunt reply
was horribly final, and Zora was seized by sudden desperation. “Please…” she
begged, though it galled her that she even found it within herself to do so.
“Please let me go. What use can I be to Grand Prince Yaroslav? He must know
that I am a—”

“Enough!” Rurik
cut in harshly. “It is not my authority to release you. The grand prince alone
can decide your fate. I only escort you to him.”

Zora held her
reckless tongue then. She must keep calm; use her head. It was a good thing
that he had interrupted her before she had given away her baseborn status. A
very good thing.

If she had
revealed to him that she was a bastard daughter, Rurik might think her less
valuable and decide that he could still take liberties with her. It was
possible. He had assaulted her when he thought her a mere concubine, hadn’t he?
Usually, bastards counted as no more than slaves in Rus, and even though her
father had offered an incredible reward for her, Rurik might hold the more
common view.

Suddenly an idea
came to her, filling her with nervous excitement and almost bringing a smile to
her lips.

Why not make
this journey as difficult for him as possible? Since he must protect her until
they reached Novgorod, he would be loathe to touch her or punish her no matter
what she did to frustrate him. And frustrate him she would! This pagan would
wish a thousand times that he had left her in Chernigov!

Now Zora did
smile. If she escaped somewhere along the route to Novgorod, so much the
better. How humiliating it would be for him to return to her uncle’s kreml with the news that he had captured
her, but she had eluded him! If Rurik was a lord indeed, as his title
suggested, her escape would discredit him. A proud Varangian warrior bested by
a mere woman! He would be dishonored forever.

Zora glanced
furtively at Rurik to find that he was paying her no heed, his expression grim
and his gaze narrowed as if searching the forest for signs of danger.

Why not begin?
It would make a fine test and maybe, if she was lucky, she would bring some of
her father’s troops down upon them. They might still be close enough to
Chernigov that someone might hear her.

Inhaling deeply,
Zora let out such a piercing scream that a flock of blackbirds perched high in
the branches above them took to the sky, screeching and cawing in protest.
Rurik was so startled that she managed to scream once more, this time right in
his ear, before he could clap his hand over her mouth.

“By Odin, woman,
what are you trying to do?” he shouted, his face flushed dark with anger.

Yanking the gag back into her mouth, he called to his warriors. “The wench
might have given away our position. Ride hard, men, as if the black hounds of
Hel were upon us! They might be now!”

Zora gasped as
Rurik jerked her hard against his chest and kicked his mount into a faster
canter, his tone menacing as he added, “And if they find us, wench, I swear—”

“I hope they do
find us!” she retorted in spite of her gag, and to enrage him further, she
started to laugh.

“Minx! Do you
think this a game? Thor’s blood, royal princess or no, you’ll soon discover
that you’ve more than met your match!”

“So will you,
you cloddish pagan,” Zora replied under her breath, grinning just for his
benefit. “So will you.”